


This can't be part of the job

by TheIceQueen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anger, Angst, Crack, Crying, Crying Dean, Curses, Doctors & Physicians, Embarrassed Dean, Embarrassment, Fear, Fisting, Fisting for medical reasons, Gloves, Gross, Handcuffs, Hex Bags, Hurt Dean, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Loss of Control, Lube, Magic, Medical Inaccuracies, Non-Consensual, Pain, Psychic Abilities, Restraints, Scared Dean, Scared Sam, Secrets, Sort Of, Vomiting, Witchcraft, Witches, Worried Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-31 03:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12666993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Dean kills a witch not knowing that she had a wife. She is not just letting him go without a little gift, which is not easy to get rid of.This is set in the middle of season three.





	This can't be part of the job

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags if you are not ready for surprises. I'm surely following Dean straight to hell for this one.  
> 

“You must be the Winchesters.”

The woman answering the door seemed to be in a hurry. Sam nodded and was about to make further introductions, when she held a hand in front of each of them, just an inch from their stomachs. The brothers looked at each other but didn’t say anything. They had come to learn to just let physics do their thing.

“You can wait in there.” She looked at Sam and pointed through a door, leading to the living room. Then she turned to Dean. “I’ve sat up with the restraints inhere, behind kitchen.”

She walked towards what must have been the kitchen, while putting her long black hair up in a knot.

Dean was confused. He had no idea what was about to happen, but he didn’t like the promise of restraints. Sam looked equally confused. They both hesitated and kept standing outside. Trying to make sense of the situation.

“Don’t just stand there. I’m sure Missouri told you, we’re on the clock.”

Missouri hadn’t told them much, but they had understood that time was an important factor. They slowly stepped inside and closed the door after them. Dean took a few steps following the woman. This felt wrong. What was he getting himself into?

“Will you be okay in there?” Sam’s voice sounded insecure and worried. Dean turned to his brother. He could hear his own heart beating and concentrated his best to, not let his voice reveal how anxious he suddenly felt.

“Sure. Just wait in there. I’ll yell if something goes haywire.” Dean gestured to the living room, but Sam didn’t move.

The dark-haired woman appeared and placed a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Don’t come running unless he’s calling your name.”

Dean nodded to Sam, to go ahead and Sam walked slowly into the living room. The woman turned Dean towards the kitchen door, and with a few deep breaths, he followed her inside. 

* * *

**Three hours earlier**

“Where we going?”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, and shifted a bit. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable, his stomach didn’t hurt, but it was acting up and the muscles kept tenting, and he couldn’t figure out why.

“I’m driving to Missouri. She’ll know if there even is a curse to worry about.”

“How long was I out?”

“Almost an hour… What did she say to you? Are you sure she did something to you?”

Dean wrapped his arms around his stomach as his stomach made new twist. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Sam looked at Dean, and Dean tried to look like it was just another day at the office.

* * *

They knocked the door at Missouri’s place and they could hear her inside, but it took a while for her to open.

Dean was happy to see a familiar face, let alone someone who might be able to tell what the hell was going on. “Hey. Long time no see.”

“Stay put.” Missouri stopped them both on the doorstep. “You are not bringing that in my house.”

The brothers looked at each other. Dean had no idea what she was talking about. They’d brought weapons in her house before, she was a hunter herself.

“Exactly what are we talking about here?” Dean suddenly thought that the witch must have given him a hex-bag or something. He looked in his pockets, but nothing.

Missouri pushed the boys backwards and stepped outside with them. Her hand on Dean’s chest started shaking and she pulled it back.

“Who did this?”

Dean was thinking over every muscle in his body, to figure out what was going on. He didn’t comprehend that Missouri wanted an answer, luckily Sam did.

“It was a witch, but she’s dead now… so the… whatever she did, it’s gone right?”

“Not necessary. If she was strong enough she could have made a hex-bag which gets power from something else. C’mon.”

She grabbed Dean by the arm and dragged him around her house and towards an annex in her garden. “I don’t have warding on this, so it should be safe for you to come in here.”

Dean followed compliantly. There was no reason not to, Missouri knew what she was talking about, he looked back over his shoulder, relieved to see Sam right behind them.

“Lay down.” Missouri nodded towards a bed in the corner of the small room. Dean did as told. Sam closed the door behind him, but kept standing by the door. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

The annex was just one room, a bed, a table with to chairs and a small kitchen, which was really just a cupboard with a sink.

Missouri pulled up a chair. “Now, tell me everything you know. What did she say?”

Dean looked at Sam. He was waiting eagerly to get the story. He had been since he’d found Dean thrown out like trash on the doorstep of the witch’s house. Dean didn’t remember at first, but during the ride here he’d come to remember everything, still not telling Sam. They were on the way here anyway, no need to add to the concern in his worrying little brother. Dean took a deep breath and looked back at the middle-aged lady waiting not so patiently.

“She thought I was alone. She said she would make me suffer for killing her wife, who _I_ thought were alone.”

“Did she say anything more specific? There are a lot of ways a witch can make you suffer, you know.”

“Gee thanks.” He wanted to continue, but had to stop and control his breathing as his muscles tensed up again. He pressed his head back in the mattress and closed his eyes, composing himself.

“Dean!” Sam came closer, but Missouri held up a hand to stop him.

“M’ okay.” Dean took a deep breath and relaxed as the feeling disappeared. He looked at the two worried faces over him. One confused and one more determined. He didn’t like that Missouri had stopped Sam from touching him and that she’d kept her distance herself since they’d gotten in here.

“She told me that I would have less than a day, then the pain would get worse and…” Dean suddenly realized that he probably shouldn’t have kept this from Sam, he would know now anyway.

“What, Dean?” Missouri looked like she was in a hurry. But he did just tell her that he would have less than a day, so it did made sense. Dean didn’t look at Sam.

“Depending on my character, whatever that means, I would lose my ability to walk, or my life.”

There was silent in the room. Sam was frozen in his place and didn’t say anything. Dean was sure he would hear it later though. Missouri looked over Dean, he could see she was thinking, so he waited in silence for her to say something.

It was weird laying there, on his back. He didn’t feel sick or different, apart from the recurring upset in his stomach.

“I’ll try to get a feel for what this is. You lay still now.”

Both brothers were perfectly still and looked intensely at the psychic while she held both hand’s over Dean’s torso. She closed her eyes, and her hands moved slowly, hovering down to be over his stomach. Both hands started shaking and Dean’s stomach turned around, he thought he had to throw up, but he stayed lying on his back. Then the pain hit. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and rolled to his side. Missouri pulled back and left Dean’s side. Sam took her place next to the curled-up man on the bed.

“It’s safe to touch him.” Missouri was leaning against the kitchen sink, still slightly panting.

Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean?”

“I’m fine.” Dean gathered himself and tried to sit. It wasn’t easy, Sam was reluctantly to help, but eventually he managed to convince his little brother that the pain was gone.

Sam turned to Missouri. “What happened? What is it?”

“It’s inside you. I can’t remove it. It’s a good thing you didn’t went inside a warded house, it would have burned up.”

Dean was not sure what that meant. Inside. What was inside him? And if Missouri couldn’t help, who could? She was the most powerful psychic they knew. He looked at her and tried to figure out if she was going to say anymore. Sam looked like he was doing the same, but things were taking too long.

“What is it? How do we remove it?”

“I might know someone…” Missouri suddenly shot out of the door.

Sam grabbed Dean and got him on his feet. Dean was able to do it by himself, but he let Sam help. “Go. I’m okay.”

Sam sprinted to the house where they just saw Missouri go in. Dean walked in an easy pace, his stomach was turning again, and he was not going to provoke a pain like before, besides he wasn’t able to go in the house anyway. Not without having a which’s leftovers burn up inside him.

Dean got to the front of the house as Sam came out the door. Missouri hugged him, and then she waved to Dean before closing her front door, leaving the brothers on the front lawn alone.

They got in the car in silence and Sam speed out of there.

“Where to?”

Sam handed him a note written in Missouri's handwriting. “We should be able to be there in two hours.”

He had no idea what to expect but he was still surprised to see the description of the new addition.

_JORDAN QUINN_

_DOCTOR, PSYCHIC, WITCH_

_SALINA, KANSAS_

* * *

 

**Present time**

The kitchen looked like any other kitchen. Used but clean, if Dean have had time to look around he’d have noticed some unusual ingredients and some books which contained recipes for something a bit more complicated and powerful than raspberry-pie. Dean’s eyes however, only noticed the table in the next room. That room only contained a big cabinet and a table. On the table were ropes and two pair of handcuffs. Dean stopped in his tracks. He looked at the table and then at the woman who was already by the cabinet.

“I… I’m not sure… What?” Dean noticed she was holding a pair of gloves, this was turning in to a nightmare real quick. He looked around, scanning the room for knives, or scissors or… but there was nothing.

“How much have Missouri told you?” It looked like the psychic doctor had realized that Dean didn’t know what was going to happen.

“Nothing. I guess… You are going to cut something out of me before it explodes.”

“I’m not going to cut you.” She smiled but still seemed to be a bit annoyed that she had to explain. “Come in here.”

Dean relaxed a bit. She was able to use magic or something. There were no chairs in the room, so he just stood next to the table, once again noticing the restraints. This was definitely going to hurt, and he started to understand why Missouri hadn’t told them what had to happen.

“But, dr…”

“Jordan, please. I’m Dr. Quinn at work. Not here, not with Missouri’s friends.” She put down the gloves and came over to the side of the table where Dean was standing. She picked up one of the cuffs. “Now are you going to run? Missouri haven’t told you for a reason. Should I tie you up before I tell you how I’m going to do this?”

Dean looked in her eyes, just for half a second. She wasn’t joking. “What if I run?”

That was definitely the wrong answer. Before he knew it, his hand was handcuffed to one of the tables legs. It was only now he noticed that the table was bolted to the floor. “What the hell?!”

“I promised Missouri that I would help no matter what. She won’t let you die.”

Dean would very much have liked to be included in that decision, especially since he was going downstairs in a matter of months anyway.

“Don’t you think I have something to say about that?” He pulled the cuffs and tried to move around the corner just to get a bit further away from her.

“The pain you will go through if that thing burns, is much worse than having it removed.”

“And you can remove it?”

She came closer to him and took his other hand. “I can.”

She seemed secure of herself, maybe more that Missouri, if that was possible. Dean let her move him to the other side of the table, stretching his torso and arm over the square surface. She handcuffed his other hand to the next corner. He could feel his breathing increase in speed. It was too vulnerable to be in this position. He was bent forward over the table, his hands cuffed to the opposite corners, and his feet were just able to stand flat on the floor.

“I’ll tell you what is going on, but don’t call your brother unless you’re completely sure. You might not want him to see this, and he might agree with me that this have to be done anyway.”

It sounded like a threat, but he didn’t say anything. He would call Sam in here the second this went the wrong way.

“The hex-bag is inside you. The thing is, we… us witches, can’t make things go through something without breaking it, not skin and flesh either, so she would have had to move it _up_ inside you…”

Dean was processing the words. Looking empty into his upper arm covering most of his view.

“Do you understand?”

“She shoved it up my ass?” Dean was not able to wrap his brain around the fact.

“She probably used a spell, but the fact is that there had to be a way in. I understand Missouri tried to move it with her powers and it started burning. I won’t do that, but I need to figure out where its located before we proceed. So, lay still for a sec.”

Dean took a deep breath while the woman placed her hands on his lover back. It didn’t seem to affect her the same way as Missouri, but maybe she was just prepared. After a few seconds of her hand’s moving around on top of his t-shirt, she stopped and went to the cabinet again.

“So, what’s the verdict doc.?” Dean sounded more nervous than he wanted to, but having a hex-bag in his intestines, that could burn him so bad that he would be paralyzed or even kill him, made it fair to be jumpy he thought. He tried not to think about how she would take it out. He was starting to hope she would settle on surgery anyway.

“Sorry, it won’t come out by itself.” She didn’t sound too sorry, she almost had an I-was-right-tone in her voice. She closed the door between the kitchen and the little room they were in. “I’ll reach in there and take it out. It will burn if I use any kind of magic.”

“You what?!” Dean tensed up, pulling the cuffs. “You can’t do that!”

“I can, and I’ll have to.” She pulled on a pair of cloves. Dean noticed from the corner of his eye, that one of them went over her elbow. She stood behind him and reached under his stomach to undo his pants.

“No! Stop. This is insane!”

“There’s no other way. Sorry.” This time she actually sounded almost sorry. Dean got a sense that she was not enjoying this.

“But… I can’t. Can’t you cut me open?”

“No. I can’t.” She got his pants open and pulled them off him. Dean let her do it, she was explaining, and he was listening for a loophole, an escape. “It’s too dangerous to do it here, we need a hospital for a surgery, I’m not a surgeon, and what would we tell them?”

Dean didn’t know. She was right, but the outcome was not an option. She pulled his boxers down. It was more of a struggle. Dean was not ready for that. He was left exposed. Calling Sam came into mind, but he wouldn’t have him in here. He would see _this_. Besides Jordan was right; Sam might agree with her, and then he would have seen for no reason.

He felt a hand around his ankle. He struggled but there was no way of fighting his way out of this. Damn, that psychic-doctor-witch was strong. She bound his ankle to the third table leg. Then she did the other. His legs were stretched apart and only his toes touched the floor. The spreading of his legs had resulted in him laying heavier on the table.

“Is this really necessary? I couldn’t move as it was.” Dean started to breath faster, he could feel the fear taking over. It was getting harder to get out complete sentences.

“I don’t want you to kick me. Besides, I need you to spread your legs, and something tells me you won’t be able to hold them like that, the whole time.”

She went to the cabinet again. Dean followed her every move. He was relieved for her to be further from his exposed backside, but he knew it wasn’t going to be long. She walked past him again pouring something on her hand. Then she was behind him again.

Dean started panting. “No… stop...! Wait!”

His words didn’t have any impact with the psychic. “I’m going to start now. It won’t take long.”

Dean tensed up with the shock from the cold lubricant poured on his most private area. Then there was pressure.

“Dean, ease up, it will hurt more if I have to force it.”

“I’m not really in control about anything right now!”

Dean had no idea how he was supposed to relax. A witch was about to put her whole hand inside him. How the hell did this become a part of their job description? Cuts, bruises, digging up graves, fighting vampires, even signing up for an eternity in hell, but this! This had to be the worst that had happened. Well… hell hadn’t happened yet.

He wasn’t able to relax, and Jordan must have realized as much, since the pressure increased. A finger slowly entered, and Dean’s knees caved from the stretching feeling. “No! It’s too much.”

“It’s just one finger. You need to breathe, or this will be extremely painful.” She was like a robot. She didn’t take pleasure in hurting him, but still there was no comfort or sign that she was sorry.

Dean tried to control his breathing. He’d realized that there was no way around this now, but he was still going swear at every opportunity to tell her that he was not okay with this.

The air was knocked out of him when the second finger were pushed inside. She moved them around turning her hand, making it difficult for him to gather himself and regain some control. Whatever control he’s managed to conjure up were lost completely when the third finger entered. He gasped and tried desperately to ground himself as he got dizzy. He grabbed the corners of the table and stretched his legs to reach more of the floor.

“Stop!” He gasped for air. “I need time.”

The movement stopped. The pressure was still enough to result in a slight burn. “I need to do this now. Were on a clock remember? Trust me you don’t want me to hurry the last part.”

Just like that she turned her fingers again. “Shit!”

Dean pressed his head into his shoulder. Soon after more pressure was at his opening. He was in sheer disbelieve; this was too much. It was too fast and took too long at the same time.

With the fourth finger followed a deeper feeling. The stretching wasn’t only at the entry now, it was too far inside. Sweat was forming on his forehead and it was difficult to hold on to the table, with his hands being wet and shaking. She moved her hand out a bit, and the cold came back. He gasped and clinched but the hand was in before he could prevent it. This time it was worse. The stretching hurt now, his thighs were shaking, and his feet were twitching over the floor.

“Fuck…! Stop!” He turned his head to the other side to find the face of the doctor, but no luck, he couldn’t see her the way he was bound. “Give me… a… break, dammit!”

“Not now. I’m Sorry.”

She said she was sorry, but Dean still didn’t believe her.

“I have all fingers in. Now comes the difficult part. After that it won’t increase in pain.”

That didn’t help Dean, at all. It’s wasn’t like setting a shoulder, where there would be pain and then it would be gone. No, this time there would be pain and then there was a promise that it would be the same... for how long?

She pushed in and Dean screamed out in agony. His whole body spasmed, and he could do nothing but to let it react to the pain. He had no control. She pushed again and then she turned her hand half way round. Dean felt her knuckles rub over his muscle like a gear not fitting in the next. When she pressed the third time and turned it back Dean cried out in a scream he was sure would alert the neighbors. The room span round as the pain spread up through his spine and sent tremors through his shoulders.

“Dean!”

“Stay out there! He’ll be okay!”

“Let _him_ tell me that!”

Sam sounded angry, worried and panicked, he was ready to kick the door in. Dean was sure that if he didn’t say something he wound be face to face with his little brother soon. He wanted to be saved, he wanted to leave this crazy bitch’s house, but he did _not_ want his brother in here now.

“Dean! You okay…? I’m coming in!” Dean could hear him pulling the handle.

“No!”

“Dean?”

Dean gasped for air. The hand was all the way in now, it still hurt but right now there was no movement and it allowed him to gather air enough for him to speak almost calmly.

“Don’t come in. I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Dean was sure that Sam could hear the pain in his voice, but the words would have to mean something too.

“I’m sure. Go back and wait… I’ll be fine.”

There was a long pause of silence. Sam must have been thinking it over. Dean and Jordan were frozen in their positions.

“You call me if you need me to break down the door. Okay?” Sam sounded angry, the hatred in his voice was clearly directed at the situation and maybe Jordan, for not letting him in and for hurting Dean.

“I will. But only come if I call your name.” Dean wasn’t sure it would keep Sam from breaking in there the next time he screamed, but he had to try, because yelling and screaming would probably still be unavoidable.

“I’ll be in the living room.”

They could hear Sam walking away from the door. Dean relaxed a bit from the relief that his brother wouldn’t see him like this. The psychic must have taken that as an opportunity; she turned her hand and pushed in a bit more. Dean’s left leg twitched, and his arms tensed up holding the corner of the table again.

“Shit. A little warning please!”

“It’s best to do this when you relax. Warnings make you tense up.”

She was right. He had no control what so ever, he was completely tensed in his entire body now. Just because he knew they were continuing.

“This is the part that will take the longest. I can’t just push through into your colon, that would break you. So, hang on for a bit here.”

She started turning her hand and pressing at something knew. Dean was losing control completely; the room was spinning faster than ever, and his legs and arms were trembling. He tried to remain in some kind of awareness of his breathing, but that too was getting difficult to even feel. If it wasn’t for the sound of his ragged panting, he wasn’t sure he was breathing at all.

The hand moved in further and the muscle she was fighting gave a little. The pain was almost back to its high point and Dean yelped as loud as his half-empty lungs would allow. The pain was ongoing, the feeling of something too big inside him was making him sick and he just wanted it to end. The hand didn’t stop moving though. Twisting and pressing, slightly winning its way through the muscle Dean had no control over.

Almost ten minutes of pain along with the violent stretching, was too much for Dean’s body to endure. He pressed his forehead down in the table and let his body do its thing. He knew he had no control anyway, and trying to move would only make his legs cramp. It felt like hours went by, lying there in the mercy of a stranger, the only thing he could do was to listen for his own breath to be sure he was still breathing, but if the sound would stop he had no power to bring it back.

A jolt of pain moved through his body, and his head jerked back and allowed him to scream. The sound filled the room for a second, then he was lying limp on the table, head turned aside, panting. His eyes were closed, he didn’t want to see the room spinning faster, surely, he would throw up.

“I’m in the colon. There won’t be as much pain now.”

Dean tried to gather himself.

“Wait.” The word was only a whisper between his gasping breaths. “Please, wait.”

To his surprise the movement stopped for a moment, letting him fill his lungs a few times.

“How long? I mean… how much...?” He took a deep breath more and she let him continue without interrupting. “Is it over soon?”

Dean dreaded the answer, but he already felt like he’d been here for days. He hated how week he sounded, he wanted to curse and shout, but he really needed to know how much more he was forced to endure.

“I’ve just entered the first part of your colon. I have my hand and my whole wrist inside now. Now I’m turning and making my way up to the hex-bag. There will be no more narrow passages, but an arm is wider closer to the elbow than around the wrist, so the stretching of your anus and rectum will continue.”

Elbow! Dean was about to shout some sort of profanity at her, but he couldn’t get the words out. There was a lump in his throat, and he’d started panting a bit again. Warm tears were rolling down his face and dripping on the table. He turned his head, and pressed his forehead against the table again. He was not going to let her see that.

He felt a hand on his lover back. So far, she hadn’t touched him other places than his ass… and inside. He’d almost forgotten that she had two hands. The hand was placed carefully not to startle him, and it moved with a light touch, in small circles.

“It’s not dangerous, Dean. This won’t leave you hurt. Some people are able to get a whole arm in there, I’m just going half that far.” Dean heard the try to comfort him in her voice, but it didn’t help. He didn’t want the comfort either. He needed to stay angry, he needed to have someone to yell at, otherwise he would have to embrace the feeling of defeat, which he was fighting so hard right now.

Just like that, the hand on his back were gone. He braced himself for what was coming. Then she pushed again. Dean was fighting not to throw up as the feeling of being filled moved up his left side. The burning in his ass got worse and he tried to kick the ropes off. It only resulted in his right leg cramping. His focus was quickly directed back to his behind and he gasped loudly, when something cold were poured on him again. She had stopped pressing inside, but the fingers pressing the cold stuff in his ass, all the way round her arm, were violently quick, and then they were gone. The pressure started again but the burning was not as cruel as before.

It took almost twenty minutes before Jordan announced that she could feel the hex-bag. Dean was not sure he heard her right. He was not sure she’d even said anything. He couldn’t be sure of anything except that his body was not under his control anymore. He had spent quite some time wishing to pass out, but it didn’t happen.

“Do you hear me?”

Dean noticed the movement inside him had stopped, but he’d not heard what the doctor had said. “What?”

“I can feel it now. I’m going to push in, one last time to get a hold of it. I have to open my hand, so it might feel strange.”

Dean was so tired he almost didn’t care. She would do it no matter what he said.

“It’s already strange.” He hissed at her. Trying to gather the last of the dignity he had, at least showing that he wasn’t broken.

Something inside him moved, in a way he hadn’t felt before. It got bigger. Then she pushed in and the feeling increased at the same spot the burning had been when he was at Missouri’s. His stomach cramped up worse than the times in the car and his legs curled as much as the restraints would allow. He felt nauseous, but used all his power to hold it. When the hand moved just one inch more and twisted, he lost the last bit of self-possession he had, out on the table. He was crying and now he was vomiting. The psychic waited till he was done emptying himself. He spat and tried to move his head from the mess. Facing down allowed him both to shield his face and not touch the puddle to the left of him.

“I’m taking it out now. I’ll go slow so I won’t do any damage, but then we’re done.”

Dean nodded slightly, still with his forehead against the table, just to let her know he was still awake. He wanted her to get this over with. It had taken way too long, and he had been ready to leave before she started, but he didn’t want her to hurry; _damage_ was a nasty word to consider in this situation.

She pulled out slowly. There was no pressing or violent stretching, but the feeling made Dean wonder if he was done throwing up. His body were limp except for the hands turning white around the table’s corners and the twitches in his legs, he couldn’t control. It got easier to endure and his breathing got more even as the pain subsided.

“Last part. Hold on.”

The hand was big holding the hex-bag, and it took force to pull it out, the last part of the way. Dean groaned when he felt the stretching again. His hand’s formed fists and hammered the table as the hand slowly made its way through his sore ring. He hissed with pain and suddenly he was left alone.

Nothing touching him. No movement inside or on his skin. He vaguely sensed Jordan walk past him and placing something in a bowl. He heard her moving around by the cabinet. Now that there was little pain left, he had time to feel exposed and he was content that she once again was closer to his head. She placed something on the clean side of the table. He flinched by the sound of her being close and tensed up when she moved to his backside.

“If you can stand, I’ll untie you now. Then you can go to the bathroom and get cleaned up.”

“I can stand.” Dean fought the ropes on his ankles, maybe to make her hurry up, or to prove to himself that he had control over his body.

Jordan untied his legs allowing him to move them a bit while she unlocked the handcuffs. Dean’s legs were wobbly, and he fell down on the table when he tried to stand at first.

“Take your time. Do you want help?”

Dean shook his head. “No! Just let me be.”

He was frustrated that he couldn’t get his body back in order. He didn’t want to stand in front of her anyway. He was naked form the waist down and she didn’t have to see is front at least. Dean wanted to get his pants on and get the hell out, but he needed to do something about the stuff running down his thighs first.

“I’ll get rid of this. The bathroom is in here.” She opened a door on the other side of the room and then she went into the kitchen with the bowl containing the hex-bag.

Dean tried to stand again. His arms were weak, but supported him enough to get him up. He looked at his wrists, they would be sore for a few days. The mess on the table were uncomfortable to look at; his body had left a mark of sweat even through his shirt, and the pool of puke contrasted with multiple clean drops of salty water next to it. There was a pile of towels on the cleaner side of the table. On top were his jeans and boxers neatly folded.

He tried to take a step, still supporting himself on the table. It got easier as he made his way around it, but the pain from his behind were not going away. He picked up the pile and walked slowly into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He wet the first towel with cold water and bent over pressing it on the abused area. He hissed as the cold touched his ass, but quickly eased into the feeling of not being burnt. Second time he did it, it was easier. Then he started to wash his legs. Bending over and stretching his body was painful but he was determined to get this done fast, so he could leave. He dried himself of with the second towel, happy to notice that there was a third towel in the pile. With much struggle he managed to get his jeans on, then he removed his t-shirt and washed his face, neck and torso. He was not going to leave here with traces of tears down his face and smelling of vomit.

On his way to the kitchen he noticed that Jordan already had cleaned up on the table. Content that all trace was gone, he went to find Sam. He almost stumbled into him in the hallway.

“You okay?”

“I… Let’s just leave.”

Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and looked in his eyes. Dean felt tired and uncomfortable and he was sure that was the only information Sam would get from this.

“Will he be okay?” Sam looked in the kitchen where Jordan was throwing away some ashes from a bowl.

“He’ll be fine. Just give him a day or two to relax and he’ll be killing off monsters in no time.”

Sam looked worried, but he let it go. Maybe he somehow gathered that he might never get the full story of what happened in that room. Dean was for sure never talking about it.

On the way out, they were stopped by Jordan’s hand on Sam’s shoulder. Dean’s stomach sank. He wanted nothing more than to get a t-shirt on and drive far away from here.

“If you are planning on driving anywhere now, I suggest you let him lay down in the back and sleep. He needs rest.”

Sam thanked Jordan and shook her hand. Dean was happy she didn’t decide to spring something new at him and that she’d taken it upon her to explain why Dean wasn’t going to sit up in the car. Dean nodded at her without making eye-contact for too long, then he put on a new t-shirt and climbed in the car before Sam got so close that he would hear his hissing and grunting.

* * *

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Sam, she said I was fine, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, but what happened in there? I heard you screaming… a lot.” Sam didn’t seem to be worried. He almost sounded sorry. 

“It was…” Dean swallowed and looked away from Sam’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “I was a lot. But I don’t ever want to talk about it. You have to get on-board with that. I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“Okay, but if something goes wrong you tell me, so I can get help.”

“Sure thing, little brother.”


End file.
